Suicide Blonde
dyed by his own hand
Planes soared above them through the clear blue sky, leaving trails like stretched white cotton in their wake. She could hear the roar from the airport a few miles away, and though most of their neighbors complained about it, she found comfort in the noise.
They were lying on their backs against the plywood floors of the tree house, two pairs of eyes gazing up at the sky above them through a missing board in the roof. It was a little imperfection that Camille had grown to love.
When they’d bought the house a few months earlier, they’d both seen the worn down tree house as an eyesore that needed to be taken down, but after a while, it grew on them, and they realized that it would feel strange to pull up in the driveway and not see the tree house in the corner of the yard.
Though they left it bare, the tree house provided them with solace. It was an escape from the stress of their careers and the new challenges of suburban life in the Hollywood Hills. Up above the rooftops, they felt invincible.
Her brown eyes shifted from the clouds above to the face at her side, and it was hard to believe that it had been almost ten years. His green eyes still had the same hopeful glimmer in them as they had when he was sixteen, and his dirty blonde hair still brushed against his forehead. Her gaze drifted upwards towards the crown of his head, and she took notice of the chocolate roots that were beginning to show, the same color as his thick eyebrows.
When they’d first gotten together, it was something that irked her, but she soon found comfort in his imperfections.
It was the small imperfections that made them real instead of just another dream.
She felt the soft touch of his fingers brush against hers, his pinky interlocking in her own, a silent promise to stay like this forever.
They were lying on their backs against the plywood floors of the tree house, two pairs of eyes gazing up at the sky above them through a missing board in the roof. It was a little imperfection that Camille had grown to love.
When they’d bought the house a few months earlier, they’d both seen the worn down tree house as an eyesore that needed to be taken down, but after a while, it grew on them, and they realized that it would feel strange to pull up in the driveway and not see the tree house in the corner of the yard.
Though they left it bare, the tree house provided them with solace. It was an escape from the stress of their careers and the new challenges of suburban life in the Hollywood Hills. Up above the rooftops, they felt invincible.
Her brown eyes shifted from the clouds above to the face at her side, and it was hard to believe that it had been almost ten years. His green eyes still had the same hopeful glimmer in them as they had when he was sixteen, and his dirty blonde hair still brushed against his forehead. Her gaze drifted upwards towards the crown of his head, and she took notice of the chocolate roots that were beginning to show, the same color as his thick eyebrows.
When they’d first gotten together, it was something that irked her, but she soon found comfort in his imperfections.
It was the small imperfections that made them real instead of just another dream.
She felt the soft touch of his fingers brush against hers, his pinky interlocking in her own, a silent promise to stay like this forever.
♠ ♠ ♠
OTP <3Day twenty-six: pinky promise me